


Defenseless

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 08:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19081141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: (This one shot was started before episode 6x04 “Strange Case”, so things happen differently in the woods with Hyde.  Though I truly enjoyed how the show actually went, I didn’t really want to scrap this either, even if it is no longer canon.  And isn’t that what fan fiction is for, to explore other avenues we might have liked to see?  Hope you enjoy this, and as always, I’d love to hear what you think. Of course I don’t own them, not even a bit!)





	Defenseless

**Author's Note:**

> (This one shot was started before episode 6x04 “Strange Case”, so things happen differently in the woods with Hyde. Though I truly enjoyed how the show actually went, I didn’t really want to scrap this either, even if it is no longer canon. And isn’t that what fan fiction is for, to explore other avenues we might have liked to see? Hope you enjoy this, and as always, I’d love to hear what you think. Of course I don’t own them, not even a bit!)

“Defenseless”

By: snowbellewells

 

“She let him out?!” Emma exclaimed in raw, frustrated disbelief. “Are they working together now?”

Regina shook her head uncertainly, blowing out a breath and running a hand through her short, dark hair, showing just how off-balance and out-of-sorts she was in that her usually perfect coif looked more than a bit disheveled. “I honestly don’t know, Miss Swan,” she finally admitted, a cross wrinkle clouding her brow as her eyes swept the empty cell, the abandoned table, bed, and other accoutrements Hyde had collected during his imprisonment, and the flung-open door that had been meant to hold him in, despite his near-invincibility. “If things made sense, my evil half wouldn’t even be here. So, needless to say, I’m not sure I know all her capabilities – or what she wants with Red-Eyed and Muscle Bound.”

Snow stepped forward then, giving an encouraging nod to Emma and laying a placating hand on Regina’s arm. “It doesn’t really matter so much how or why she let him out. What’s more important is what they’re up to and finding them before anyone else is hurt in the crossfire.”

“I second that, your Highness,” Killian stepped to Emma’s side, dipping a gallant little bow of the head to Emma’s mother, while also inconspicuously reaching out to twine his Swan’s fingers with his own, enclosing her hand in his larger one and effectively helping to keep the rest from noticing that the erratic twitching of her fingers had begun once more. He still didn’t know her fear, still hadn’t gotten her to explain the concern which was pressing in on her and causing the disturbing side effect, but he knew that for whatever reason, Emma couldn’t handle all of them noticing now, and so he had taken to aiding her in the endeavor where he could, while offering his silent, unconditional support, whether she fully shared her burden and its story with him or no. He had faith that she would in time. He had stated once that he was a patient man, and he was being called upon to prove it.

Emma offered Killian a sidelong glance and grateful smile, knowing what he was doing and appreciating it more than she had time or words to articulate. Instead, she offered gentle pressure on his fingers in return, though hers still shook slightly, and then turned back to her mother and Regina. “Right then, let’s get to it,” she seconded determinedly.

As they exited the floor beneath the hospital, still the oddly troubling site of the hidden underground holding cells, and started down Main Street, eyes peeled for signs of trouble, the group which also included Emma’s father and Henry, were just discussing splitting up to cover more ground when cries of distress and an angry sound of rending wood and metal drew their attention toward Granny’s. Not even having to consult, they all headed toward the racket at a run.

Rounding the little fence that enclosed the outdoor dining area and ducking under the trellis arch at the entrance, Emma and the rest were startled to a halt at the scene before them. The formidable Mr. Hyde, his controlling cuffs no longer on his wrists and a frightening, malevolent expression twisting his foreboding countenance, stood halfway up the steps to the diner’s front door, a wreck of overturned tables, misshapen outdoor chairs and unseated diner patrons slowly and stiffly regaining their feet, in his wake. The handrail was in his grip, half-ripped from the stairway, clearly the screech of metal they had heard ring out. The man himself – more monster than the gentleman warden he played at when it suited him – had been stopped however, at least for the moment, in mid-rampage by the crossbow leveled right between his eyes by Granny, who was blocking the threshold to her establishment and standing her ground.

“Go ahead and try it,” the stout older woman growled harshly, staring him down as if his imposing frame and immense strength didn’t even faze with her. “After the mess you’ve made and the customers you’ve quite possibly injured, I’ll be glad to put an arrow right between your hateful, beady eyes.”

Both David, his own service weapon drawn, and Emma and Regina, hands up, ready to fling magical firepower, even if it only stunned or slowed him, edged carefully forward, not wanting to get close enough for their new nemesis to manage a chokehold or to catch a stray one of Granny’s arrows themselves. Hyde only chuckled at their progress, that low, unnervingly sonorous voice setting the nerves of everyone present on edge.

He shook his head as though playfully chiding them for their ineptitude, first at Regina, and then at Emma. “Sticks and stones, my friends. You come at me with mere sticks and stones, but you must know by now that they cannot stop me.”

Turning his back on Granny and dropping the curled piece of metal railing from his massive grip, the evil half of their nervous new doctor friend descended the steps to meet them, his seeming threat to the diner forgotten. “All the same, now that I have your attention,” he gave an almost-grin, a truly frightening expression on the brutish, cold face, “I can stop this charade of indiscriminate destruction and move on to my actual purpose.”

“And that is?” Regina bit out venomously, a perfectly sculpted brow raised as she pressed their foe to lay his cards on the table.

“Nothing that concerns you, Regina,” he responded coolly, a careless gesture of dismissal in the hand he waved at her. If the rest of them had not been so angry and worried, it would have been almost funny to see Regina shut down so soundly. “Without your deliciously devious alter ego,” Hyde continued, “you are of no interest to me at all. However, as the Queen freed me from your little cage, and she is intensely interested in you, she bade me tell you that you can add this to your list of failings. She wants you to know that you won’t stop her, and just like the Count, the blood of any more who fall will be on your hands as well.”

He straightened suddenly and clapped once, loud and abrupt. “She has also granted me the privilege of privacy to deal with what is my concern. And for that,” his gaze swung back toward Emma as he took a step in her direction, causing Killian to order ‘Halt!’ and move closer as well, “the Savior needs to come with me.” As soon as the words left his mouth, a swirling column of purple magic, the Evil Queen’s signature, blinded them, and when the smoke cleared, it left behind only empty space where both Hyde and Emma had stood.

“Swan!” Killian’s voice rang out after her, wrecked and desperate, his blue eyes wide in disbelief, staring helplessly at where his Love had been mere moments before. Henry’s stricken “Mom!” from Regina’s other side, only drove the knife deeper; they had been separated again. The lad reached out blindly, though all he could grasp was empty air.

“Where did they go?!” Dave demanded, turning on Regina in tense, futile fatherly concern, needing her to have some sort of clue, even if only because her alter ego’s magic had been what allowed Hyde to take Emma away. “What does he want with Emma?”

“Calm down, Charming,” Regina gritted through clenched teeth, irritation at his impotent anger directed at her, not to mention the very idea that anyone could get the better of her so seamlessly, bringing her near the point of overflow. “I don’t know yet, but we’re going to find out. And your bellowing useless demands at me won’t help.”

“If you think –” the Prince began to snarl back, his concern whipping up frustration and menace in a way that completely swamped and overrode his usual good nature and even calm. With no direction in which to follow them, the purpose he needed to channel the energy roiling beneath the surface was slipping. He was about to unload years lost with Emma when he couldn’t nurture, shelter, and cherish his daughter, because of the spiteful, revenge-fueled curse cast by this repentant, if difficult, woman before him. It would accomplish nothing, but he couldn’t stand the thought that his princess had vanished once more, could not bear it if she had to rescue herself yet again – tough, capable adult though she was – because he couldn’t find her.

Snow reached out to clasp his upper arm in her understanding, but firm, grasp. As David’s tense gaze fell to meet her upturned eyes, his wife shook her head silently in a firm gesture, reminding him that it would do no good to loose words he would later regret. “I know,” she whispered fervently, her lips pressed to his shoulder as she clung to him, trying to hold him back, even as she too felt the rush her daring prince struggled to control, saying again, so only he could hear, “I know, Charming.” Out loud, she merely said, “Let Regina think for a moment. If anyone can figure out what Hyde and the Evil Queen might be up to and where they’re working from, it’s her.” Squaring her shoulders, Snow then moved forward toward Granny to help her right a pathetically bent metal table and its mangled chairs, drawing her husband and reluctant grandson along in her wake. They helped Archie, Marco, Doc, Sleepy, and Sneezy, plus Abigail, Frederick, and their two-year-old son, put themselves back to rights and brush themselves off, making sure no one had been permanently hurt.

Killian, however, could do nothing of the sort. “I’m sorry, Lad,” Killian croaked helplessly when Henry looked to him in question, shrugging and dipping his head. “I… I can’t…I just…I have to start looking for your mother.”

“You don’t even know where to go,” David began wearily, the resignation clear in his voice.

“It doesn’t matter, Mate. I’ll check everywhere,” Killian murmured, shaking his head, still a bit dazed at how quickly calamity had upset his world again. Turning, he threw over his shoulder, “Just call me when you know something certain. If I haven’t found her, I’ll meet you there.”

Regina’s quick glance his way showed a keenly painful amount of understanding. The moment cut through the defensiveness and annoyance they often leveled at each other and connected one person who had lost too much and had hoped not to again with another who had been in the same place and hoped to hold onto his last chance of salvation. “Here, take this,” she offered, handing him the electrically charged stick that had proved to be their only minimally effective weapon against the monster. Placing it in his hand, she vowed solemnly, “We’ll join you as soon as we have a heading.”

“Aye,” Killian nodded, closing his hand around the baton, then he turned and headed off down the street, hopefully on his way to his Swan.

~~~~~~00000000000~~~~~~~~000000000000~~~~~

Meanwhile, in the depths of the woods that bordered their little town, Emma Swan felt the ground connect with her feet hard; falling out of thin air, with such force that the impact brought her to her knees. Lightheaded, it took her a minute to regain her bearings and realize where she was. Then her head snapped up quickly, seeking out Hyde and already steeling herself for whatever strike he – or even the Evil Queen, if she appeared as well – might level next.

Off to her right, she heard the gravelly clearing of a throat as the self-appointed new ruler of Storybrooke stepped back into her line of vision, looking as calm and unruffled as if he traveled by magical transportation every day. Possibly he did, she didn’t know or care; she wanted him back under control, and herself back with her pirate and her son as soon as possible, and since her magic barely fazed the villain, she didn’t have the slightest idea how to manage it. Her brow furrowed in consternation as she felt the tiniest tremor beginning again in her hand and up her forearm.

“Trouble, Ms. Swan?” Hyde chortled silkily. The dark, unnerving eyes with the red tracks streaking from them held her gaze as if trapping her within their hold. “You still haven’t gotten that shaking under control, have you?”

Vaulting to her feet, Emma took a step backward; eyes wide and wild however she wanted to appear unafraid, wishing him no closer to her than he already was. However Mr. Hyde did it, he had already shown his ability to get inside her head and uncannily guess at her fears, and the sadistic warden was not getting in there again. “Back off, Buddy!” she warned, flinging her steadier left hand out as a barrier.

“Remarkable,” the implacable menace responded, shaking his head at her as if she were merely a recalcitrant child. “You come up to my shoulder, possess only a fraction of my brute strength, your magic is on the fritz, and you can barely function beneath the pall of your own impending death, and yet you still insist on acting as though you are the one in control.”

“Make your point, Freak Show,” Emma snarled, bluffing tremendously as she felt herself going cold while her foe moved inexorably into her space despite her own attempt to stand her ground and look untroubled. “What do you want with me anyway? Or in this town in the first place?”

At first, he merely stood before her, towering ominously without further speech or making actual physical contact. Then, suddenly, Emma realized something was happening, something she had not recognized until it was too late. She couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, and couldn’t look away. The stare coming from Hyde was akin to what a king cobra might turn on a mouse, rendering it frozen as it gulped the smaller creature down whole. Cringing at the pathetic ridiculousness of her folly, Emma tried to break his gaze, shake her head free, escape the trance, but she was completely ensnared. “Ah now, much better. Perhaps you might simply listen without your witty insults and biting comebacks. As you put it, ‘What I want with this town’ is simple. My Land of Untold Stories was chock full of desperate souls, willing to do anything, make any deal, pay any price, to keep their stories from playing out to the end, to stop them in the moment they were happy with and put off their fates. So full in fact, that I needed more space – expansion plans, if you will. Unfortunately, with my lovely new acquisition came a heap of light magic, a storybook that gives the kind of hope which will cause many in my number to seek their happy endings and finish their stories, and a nosey bunch of do-gooders to help them do so. I cannot have that. Who wants an expanded kingdom with no subjects to rule?”

Emma attempted to scoff at the words and his grandiose ideas, counter his plans with a dose of reality, but whatever thrall he had managed to capture her within, held fast. The only movement her body managed was not by her own design as the rogue tremors along her arm increased. It was then that Hyde’s hand came up and clamped around her throat, at first just an uncomfortable threat and then tightening slowly as the air to her lungs was constricted.

“You, my dear – the Savior – can ruin things even more. You’re the one who brings the happy endings, or so they say. If I let you meddle unchecked with enough of my citizens, before we know, I’m King of Nothing.”

Emma wanted to disagree, to argue, to bring her hands up and fight to peel his ever-tightening grip from her neck, but nothing happened. She was a prisoner in her own body, to her chagrin and confusion.  
Mr. Hyde’s strange, cold eyes bore into hers, grasp narrowing, making her rasp harshly for breath, hating the weak sound being forced from her, but as incapable of stopping it as she was anything else about the encounter. “Yet, I don’t really need to physically harm you to stop you, do I, ‘Savior’? Why don’t we instead dredge up what you’ve been hiding?”

There was nothing she could do but bear it silently, helplessly trying to withstand the onslaught as familiar images took over her vision once more, enhanced somehow, whether by Hyde or the Queen’s magic, or her own growing desperation with the sound of her family’s cries, the clang of steel, the sickening squelch of the hooded figure’s sword piercing her stomach, and the scent of too much blood. The vision was hauntingly familiar by now, but the new depth of its realism unmanned her anew.

“Oh yes, you’re well acquainted with this scenario, are you not?” Hyde gloated, feeding on her torment, growing implacably stronger with every passing moment. Her paralysis deepened, and the tenacious lost girl inside Emma who had always managed to fight back seethed as well as trembled at the utter uselessness she felt – completely immobilized no matter how she struggled.

Hyde continued with his taunting monologue against her will. Emma’s lungs were burning, mouth gaping for more air, but she didn’t feel blackness rising to claim her, and knew that somehow this sadistic fiend must know just how much pressure to exert to make things painful and panic—inducing without actually forcing a person into unconsciousness. Clearly he didn’t want her to miss his moment of triumph. If she could roll her eyes at his typical villain behavior, she would. “You see, I knew as soon as you returned alone to speak to me in my cell that I could neutralize your threat to my plans. I didn’t give you the original vision. I believe that is an amalgam of your own worries, insecurities, and regrets. You fear failing those who have come to depend on you, losing the family and the love you lived so long without, and yet you still worry that if you aren’t their hero, the Savior, then who you really are will cause them to walk away, as so many have before.”

He paused, studying Emma with a smug certainty that she wanted to punch off his face – if only her arm would lift to take a swing. Her racing mind briefly questioned how this psychotic ‘gentleman’ had always known so much about her, and at the same time, she wanted to spit at him angrily that he didn’t know her at all. Anything to make the truth stop stinging in her chest along with the lack of oxygen.

“However,” the monster continued in self-satisfaction, “I did send you to that oracle in the woods. I know her master, knew it would be easy to convince you of the vision’s truth, its inevitability. Once you were convinced that your death was imminent, I was weakening you without doing anything more. The isolation and secret-keeping ate away at you, your tremors worsened; you haven’t even been sleeping, as you were anxious not to miss a minute of the precious time you have left. That vision has been draining you, causing you to pull back, to doubt yourself, ever since. Now, you can be finished off – the great Savior finally put out of her miserable existence by a foe she couldn’t vanquish. It’s the way all Saviors go in the end. How about a little parting gift before I finish you? By the time we’re done here, you might just thank me.”

Emma wasn’t sure how it happened, how the brute holding her by the throat had managed it, but as the nightmare vision repeated itself in her mind’s eye once more, she was immersed in it completely. She was no longer standing in the woods being slowly choked to death by a fictional character, but she was instead on that dark street of the near-future, and when the sword sank into her gut, she was transported again, a debilitating slideshow of the anguish and fear of her past engulfing her. Images flashed through her mind’s eye as clearly as if she were living them over again: the Swans driving her back to the group home with her one little battered suitcase, leaving her with the circlet necklace she still wore and the comfortless words that ‘she’s a lovely girl, but they’re going to have a child who is their own flesh and blood, who will be truly theirs’; the locked cupboards and refrigerator of the foster home a few years later, and the beating she had taken after learning to pick the locks on both and sneaking some extra cheese and crackers for herself and the two smaller children who shared her room after their stomachs had been growling in the middle of the night, the weals from the belt on the backs of her thighs had made her nearly incapable of sitting for a week, though the hungry, hopeful eyes of those two younger kids she could never quite work up the nerve to filch any more extra food for had pained her even more; showing up in a new junior high with taped, drugstore variety reading glasses and having the other girls either mock or ignore her for their obvious ugliness as well as her castoff, Goodwill clothes, and the surly manner she’d adopted to convince herself she didn’t want their friendship anyway; the fact that she lived with headaches all those years from nearsightedness that no one took her to an eye doctor to diagnose or have properly corrected, only made the whole memory throb more painfully. It wasn’t until she and Neal had actually snuck into the vacant motel room of an elderly couple and found that one of the room’s former occupants had left behind their glasses with a prescription which must have been close to what Emma needed, that at least the constant ache was mostly relieved. Thinking of Neal brought back the abandonment, the gripping loss and betrayal, and the crushing blow that once again she hadn’t been enough, and the ripping, tear of loss that followed; birthing Henry in a prison infirmary, pushing him from her body and into the cold, cruel world but never even letting herself look on his tiny, newborn face; knowing he was going to be taken away from her, knowing that was better for her little boy, knowing that in the end she wouldn’t be enough for him either…

Tears poured down Emma’s cheeks silently as the tortuous slide show played on. She couldn’t stop them, try to hide them, even dash them from her face as the horrible paralysis continued to hold her a living statue. Was he somehow forcing her to do this to herself – her own doubts and regrets helping Hyde to keep her prisoner? Regardless, it seemed there was nothing else but to drown in the pain, and Emma was finally slipping under when a voice rang out through the dark trees.

“Hyde!” the call broke through the encroaching darkness, flooding her mind like a beacon. Emma would know that voice anywhere, though its normally melodious warmth was stolen by the harsh worry for her stretching it taut and angry, “Let her go!”

Turning sinister, unconcerned eyes on Killian Jones, Mr. Hyde loosened his grip on her windpipe, and Emma gulped in a breath of air desperately, crumbling to the ground at his feet upon finding that the strangling grip had been all which held her upright. “Certainly, Captain,” the villain mocked obedience in the way he twisted Killian’s title, “but I think you will find it is her own mind truly keeping her prisoner.”  
“We’ll see about that,” Killian seethed, and as quick as lightning, he flung his good hand forward, gripping Dr. Jekyll’s electrified baton and sending a jolt directly at Hyde’s chest, propelling him backward and felling him in an unconscious heap several feet away.

Though Emma sensed she could move of her own volition again, she could only slump gasping for breath, vision swimming, the trees and the sound of Killian’s footsteps running to her side over the uneven ground filtering in and out of focus. It wasn’t until he fell to his knees next to her, reaching out to hold her and check her over for injury, his lovely deep voice begging frantically, “Emma? Emma love, can you hear me?!? Are you alright?” that she felt the cold despair she had sunk into begin to recede.

While his blunted arm wrapped around her waist to draw her closer – she could feel the solid curve of his hook at the small of her back – his hand smoothed her snarled hair away from her face and traced soothing, gentle fingers over the fresh marks of Hyde’s clutch on her neck. He winced with her at the tender sting as though the pain were his as well. 

“I’m fine,” she barely croaked out, leaning into his embrace. And though her voice was small and scraped raw, she found that she was. Trembling from lack of oxygen and adrenaline draining away, Emma felt relief more than anything else; relief at still being there with him and in his arms.

Gathering her closer to his side with his hook arm, Killian brushed his fingers tenderly over her forehead and the bridge of her nose in a feather light caress and merely murmured in her ear, “Come then, Love. Let’s go home.”

She nodded eagerly, leaned on him as he helped her to her feet, supporting her as she stood shakily, and for once, let someone else do the thinking and take care of her.

~~~~~~00000000000~~~~~~~~0000000000000~~~~~~

Evening found Emma feeling mostly recovered, if a bit shaky and torn. Sitting curled up in the roomy bay window seat, which had sold her on the house Killian and Henry had picked just as the outlook on the harbor had captivated Killian, tucked against her pirate’s sturdy chest and wrapped safely in his arms, Emma couldn’t help reflecting on how close she might have truly come to losing this – her love, her family, her home – that day, and how much the frightening vision she had been allowing herself to believe had cost her and weakened her, and might even be a danger to those she had wanted so badly to protect in keeping it secret. She could not in good conscience carry on hiding, and the pirate holding her as if unable to let her loose for a second deserved to know.

For the past few hours, Emma had known it was time to come clean; however, finding her moment to speak to her sailor alone and calmly had proven almost as much a challenge as her reluctance to bring him pain or lend the vision credence had originally done. After all, in the immediate aftermath, Regina and her parents had arrived to put the cuffs back on Mr. Hyde while he was still knocked out and find a new, hopefully more secure, prison for him – but she and Killian had hardly been at their house a half hour before Regina had arrived to drop off an anxious Henry, and her son had needed to hug Emma and reassure himself that his mom would be just fine. He had been followed closely by her parents with her younger brother in tow. All of them had been set on fussing over Emma, waiting on her hand and foot, until she couldn’t help but chuckle lowly at them despite her raw throat and shake her head in amused disbelief – overwhelmed by their caring if slightly discomfited as well. She was fine, and she was used to picking herself up, brushing herself off, and carrying on alone. Appearing to need help or showing vulnerability was still highly unfamiliar territory for her. She had to force herself to relax and accept it as her mom bustled around making Killian’s suggested hot tea with honey for her raw throat, as Henry pulled over the footstool and kept trying to make her prop her feet up, while her father bounced Neal in his arms as he talked with her pirate, though both of them were clearly trying to keep her seated and at rest in the living room more than anything else. Killian, much to her flushing chagrin, had also refused to be satisfied until he had bathed the red marks and bruises forming from Hyde’s stranglehold on her neck with a warm cloth and wrapped the area with clean bandages and liniment fetched gladly from his ship by Belle, who was hovering in the kitchen with her mother, and also earnestly wishing to help. Emma had simply come to the conclusion that it was best to sit back and allow his ministrations. To herself alone – though she gave Killian a gentle smile which he easily read and understood, matching it with a grim one of his own in return – Emma could finally admit that it felt good to be so cherished.

When she eventually pled her case enough with quiet whispers in Killian’s ear, fingers stroked through the hair at the nape of his neck, and pouting eyes, that she was ready to try to sleep for the night, her pirate at last managed to ease everyone else out the door for her. With his glib natural charm and promises that they would meet her parents at the diner tomorrow, David, Snow, and Belle couldn’t even feel hurt at being ushered off for the night. Soon after, Henry pecked a kiss to her cheek, telling her how glad he was that she was alright, and bounded up to his room to call Violet and read a bit before bed.

Turning to Killian, Emma gave him a sheepish smile, looking up almost shyly from under her lashes.

A gentle grin quirked one corner of his mouth as well, while he lifted his hook to tenderly brush a strand of her hair over her shoulder. “To bed then, Swan?” he asked softly, somehow managing to sound only concerned and not the least bit salacious, genuinely anxious to see her at rest, healing, and on her way to putting the day’s close call behind her.

Twining his fingers with hers, Emma pressed their joined hands to her heart and steeled her nerves, pulling him down beside her once more. With a small nod, she agreed softly, “Yeah, in just a minute.”

Cuddled close to him, Emma forced herself to look Killian in the eye and plunge into the long overdue truth of the vision and tremors that she had held back from him for far too long. And though she had fully expected her True Love to be hurt, angry, or both, at the fact that she had not confided it all sooner, hadn’t let him soothe her horror or assure her that the meaning couldn’t be as dire, the ill fortune as certain, as she had been led to believe, the only real sign he was troubled was a furrow in his brow and the clench of his strong jaw.  
When she finished, finally having bared all – the whole story out in the open between them – she looked up into his fathomless blue gaze hopefully and managed to add, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Killian. I just wanted us to have some peace, just a few quiet moments without this hanging over us. I’ve only now gotten you back and…I…I didn’t want you throwing yourself into danger again to protect me. I wanted to feel what it would be like to build a home…and…and just live with you, while I could…”

Killian stopped her there before she could go on, his fingers pressed to her lips before re-lacing them with hers. “No, Love, don’t apologize. I was frustrated when you hid it from me at first. But you’ve come to me now…and I do understand.”

“You do?” she asked, unable to believe this man’s capacity for loving her, smoothing her broken edges, and taking her for who she was.

“Aye, Darling, of course,” he assured, voice low and warm, as he brushed a soft kiss to her temple then stood and pulled her up after him. “Now off to sleep for you.”

Awed and grateful, Emma blinked up at him in wonder, burrowing closer to his warm side as they climbed the staircase side by side. “That’s it?” she asked.

“That’s all,” he confirmed. “Well…that, and a promise.” As they reached the second story landing, he paused, pulling her fully into an embrace, holding her so close, so tightly to his chest that not a breath of air could pass between them. Emma felt more than heard the next words he spoke against her hair, a fervent vow branded on her heart, “I promise that will not be your fate.”


End file.
